The Only Child
It can be a blessing…or a curse.
I’m resting today and contemplating a recently diagnosed medical issue, and I want to be sure I give you something interesting to read. It’s short, but very meaningful for me.
I was the only child of parents who never wanted one and yet tried to keep up the appearances of being good parents.
They tried so the outside world never knew the antipathy they held deep in their hearts.
They were madly in love and, as middle-aged people who had found their first true loves later in life, were forced into making room for a child born only 9 months and 1 day after they were married.
My mother and I had a complicated relationship, one that ebbed and flowed between affection and fear, love and hate, and nurture and withdrawal. We were a complicated pair.
One day, when my mother was on her deathbed, she told me how she had tried to end my life when I was just an infant. She left me floating in a bathtub, closed the door, and waited until she could no longer hear me before coming in.
When she opened the door, I was floating and happily gurgling. Seeing her deep pain as she was recounting this memory, I said, “Mama, I forgive you”.
I saw her face relax and a look of deep relief as she closed her eyes to rest.
My Father, Mother, me, and my Aunt Dorothy
I’m also studying writing by reading Writing Down the Bones, written by the magnificent author, Natalie Goldberg. She’s also the creator of Writing Down the Bones Deck, a deck of all new lessons and topics she published in 2021. And, she lives in New Mexico!
So, look forward to juicier writing as I absorb her lessons and share my new work with you.
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